


escape hatch

by ndnickerson



Series: souhait accordé [9]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Doggy Style, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: Ned's sleep is interrupted by a very unwelcome memory.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Series: souhait accordé [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/15253
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	escape hatch

Ned jerked awake, panting, and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He was so shaken that it took him a couple of fumbled tries to manage it, and he cringed as he glanced over at his wife, expecting to see her blinking up at him, disoriented and concerned.

She was still asleep.

Thank God.

He carefully slid out of bed and closed himself in the dark bathroom before flipping on the lights. He didn't want to wake her. God, especially not right now.

He couldn't look at his own reflection in the mirror.

He was awake, and it wasn't real, and yet the shame of it was palpable. It left him feeling panicked, like he had to make amends for something that hadn't even happened.

He wanted to call Sol. Suddenly, fiercely. Sol would talk him through it, reassure him, or give him the facts with no sugar coating it. But he was almost desperate to have someone on his side, and...

It had only been a dream.

He sat down on the toilet and covered his face with his hands.

The only part of the dream he remembered was the part with the coke.

Probably, certainly, there had been more to it than that. But Ned remembered seeing the baggie full of fine white powder, dangled from the hand of a "friend" Ned had never met before in real life. Oh, he'd known he should say no, but the craving had hit him full-force, sweeping away all his halfhearted objections. The high had been incredible.

And then, realizing what he had done in the dream had jerked him back to consciousness almost immediately.

Ned scrubbed his jaw with the heel of his hand, releasing a silent sigh. So he'd been able to drink without overdoing it; yeah, he'd been drinking too much in California, but he wouldn't have called himself an alcoholic. And for the first few times, doing casual hits at parties, he wouldn't have called himself an addict. A recreational user, sure.

He was always going to be an addict.

He moaned quietly, hanging his head. He'd been clean for so long, and even seeing coke at that party he'd attended with Nancy hadn't done anything significant to him. He had no desire to seek out coke while he was conscious and aware of what was going on around him. Ned knew precisely what was at stake, and what he absolutely couldn't afford to lose. He'd lose Nancy, who had reclaimed her rightful place as the center of his world. He'd lose the child she might be carrying; they wouldn't know for sure for another week, and she hadn't said anything, but he'd known what was happening the night she knew she was ovulating. She hadn't _needed_ to say anything.

He would never jeopardize her safety or his own or their relationship again, especially not for something so ultimately worthless.

And yet.

Something, some small part of him, had remembered that part of his life and shown that temptation to him again.

Once he had calmed down a little, he took a few deep breaths and tried to work through it. Sometimes in dreams, he engaged in behavior he would never engage in otherwise. He'd been under some stress at work, and that was exactly the circumstance that had provoked his use before—stress, a perceived lack of productivity, depression over the crumbling of his marriage and his stubborn, false belief that Nancy was the only one to blame for it.

Having a baby with her seemed even more important now. It would be a sign that things truly had changed between them, that Ned really had managed to redeem himself after such a dark, ugly period in their life together. When Nancy's period came, when a few days of its delay meant tearful scrutiny of a negative pregnancy test, it was another indictment. He wasn't _quite_ good enough. As much as he'd worked on improving himself and recommitting himself to this, he had still missed the mark.

And Ned knew Sol would pin him with a withering look, were he to verbalize all that. He and Nancy weren't characters in some movie, where everything had to be a symbol or further the plot. Their lives were messy and complicated. A baby was a living, breathing, separate person, not a gold star to be earned.

Still. It did kinda feel that way, sometimes.

He sighed and pushed himself up, finally facing his reflection. He'd get some more sleep and this would all be gone in the morning. And, he supposed, being scared shitless over a mere dream—nightmare—was just a sign that he wasn't faltering in his commitment to stay clean. He hadn't opened his eyes to a roaring need to score. He wasn't considering who he could contact for a buy right now. So at least there was the faintest silver lining.

He splashed some water on his face and turned just in time to see Nancy opening the bathroom door. She'd tugged on a long-sleeved shirt and flannel pants to ward off the chill, and her gaze was heavy-lidded.

"Sorry," she murmured, scrubbing a palm against her cheek and smothering a huge yawn.

"No, you're fine," he replied. He slid an arm around her and brushed a kiss against her cheek before returning to bed.

He was tired, but still awake, when Nancy returned to her own side, stripped down to her underwear, and hastily climbed back into bed. They both preferred a cold room while sleeping, since it made their cocoon of warmth all the more cozy, but she was definitely more sensitive to the temperature than he was.

He had just closed his eyes when he felt the bed shift slightly, and then Nancy was pressing herself against his back, tucking her legs up behind his, spooning him. He snickered softly at the change.

He felt her breath against his neck and made a soft, inquisitive sound as she looped her arm over his side to rest against his chest.

"You okay?"

"Mmm." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Yeah. You okay?"

"Yeah. You sounded like you were having a bad dream."

Ned froze for a second, then deliberately relaxed, hating that he was misleading her at all. But he didn't really want to bring it up, not right now. Especially not with her pressed against him like this. "It was," he admitted. "I was."

"Sorry." She snuggled against him a little more.

When she didn't say anything else for a solid minute, Ned slumped against his pillow and moved his arm to cover his wife's. He could feel her breasts, and...

Well. This was nice, but he needed to stop thinking about it, and go to sleep.

He _did_ drift off for a little while, but then they both turned, and when he drifted back to consciousness he was the one spooned up behind Nancy, and his hand was under her panties, his fingertip idly stroking against her clit. She was making quiet mewling sounds, writhing a little against him.

So this had been going on for a minute.

"Shit," he muttered, stopping himself. Fuck, he was hard, and they'd woken up like this so many times before, but he didn't know if she was awake. "Baby..."

"Don't stop," she begged him, and bucked her hips, cupping her hand over his to encourage him.

They were already wearing so little that it only took him a second to free his erection, and she moaned when he guided it between her thighs, in the darkness. She pushed her panties down far enough to give him access, and he went back to stroking her, his other hand coming up to caress her breasts.

And it was all familiar, but that didn't make it any less hot, for either of them. Once she was more than ready, slippery hot and pulsing with his strokes, she rolled onto her knees and he followed, sliding into her almost immediately, with a slick glide that made them both cry out. "Oh my _God,_ " she gasped. "Mmmm, _God._ "

"Yeah," he agreed. He didn't slam into her, he took his time, but she was already incredibly aroused and impatient for him. Drawing it out made her frantic, and he fucking _loved_ that, loved the feel of her pussy clenching tight around his cock, gripping him, caressing him, as he fondled her clit. She cursed and sobbed and screamed, and he hated that he couldn't see, he could only hear and feel when she broke, but the angle was fucking perfect. He slid into her once more and held there, stroking her clit even more rapidly, and she sobbed out a scream as all of her trembled with another climax.

"Oh God, baby," she whimpered as he began to thrust again. "Oh _fuck_..."

He was more than ready, and every brush of his fingertips, every inch of penetration made her shudder, constrict and release, draw him closer even as she fought it. When he finally let himself come it was with a hoarse cry, spending himself in the slippery heat of her, deep inside her trembling body.

Her knees slid apart and he very nearly collapsed on top of her right after she did, but managed to support his weight and gently slide out of her instead. She moaned, still quivering, and he rolled to his side of the bed and gathered her into his arms. She cuddled against him, the join of her thighs slick, as her trembling began to slow.

"Hey," he panted, his lips brushing her face. "Shh. You okay?"

"Mmm. Yeah," she murmured. "Fuck. I can't move."

He chuckled. He really didn't want to move very much either. Once he had caught his breath, he leaned over just far enough to grab a few tissues from the box at their bedside, and they made a halfhearted effort to clean up.

After, she nestled her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest, her knee bent and her leg draped over him too. She wouldn't stay this way for long; it would quickly be too hot. But he enjoyed it anyway.

"You're my Ned," she whispered.

"And you're my Nancy," he replied just as quietly.

She hummed softly, quietly disagreeing. "No, I mean... you're not that guy anymore, and I know you aren't. It's gonna be all right."

He stilled. He had no idea what to say.

"It's okay," she repeated, and brushed a kiss against his chest. "I dream about shitty things too. I know how it is. But you're a good guy, and I trust you. I just want you to know that."

He let himself breathe out. "That means a lot," he admitted.

"I wouldn't have recommitted myself to us if I hadn't been sure I was making a good decision," she replied softly. "You've never given me cause to doubt it. I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too," he replied, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight for a moment. "I was so scared when I thought that dream was real. I'd never... I'd never do that to us. Not ever again."

She yawned. "Better not," she murmured. Then she chuckled as she rolled over, settling on her side of the bed. "Not while you're awake, anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving feedback!


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